Where We Collide
by lynn.reist
Summary: There's a secret, and it's driving them both mad: one clinging to it in fear, and the other digging for it for the same reason. What they don't realize is that they both do it out of love. Yuffentine. Much Lemon.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Vincent comes home after a self-commissioned mission, eager to have Yuffie for himself. What he doesn't count on, however, is Yuffie's disgruntled reaction to his disappearance.

Smut, as a challenge to a comment I saw posted somewhere around here about "Glorified sex being the only kind sustainable in famdom". I hope this busts that wall down. So this was a huge challenge for me, just to see if I could do it. It was meant to be a quick one-shot Yuffietine, which turned into 12 pages of drawn out angsty sex, which I've decided isn't done yet.

* * *

"_Yuffie, Greatest Ninja in the World, how can I help you?"_

"_Today."_

"_Vinnie?"_

_Silence on the other end. She snapped her phone shut, staring at it as a smile gripped her expression. "He's coming home: Today."_

_ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

She looked away from the window when the door opened, and her eyes soaked in the sight of him as he entered the room, pulling off his cloak.

A smile captured her lips. "I've been waiting for you."

That was all. No 'I was worried', or 'I'm glad you're home'. Just a simple reminder of her faith in him and the desire she held to see him once again. His garnet eyes followed her as she moved from one window to another. He didn't need to say anything: in fact it would have concerned her if he did. She knew he was just as glad to see her as she was to see him.

"Barrett called today," she said conversationally. "He said Cloud and Tifa came to visit Marlene. I guess Cloud was wondering where you had gotten to. Barrett was wondering if _I_ knew." Their eyes met through the reflection of the window. "Of course I told him that I had no idea, and truthfully, at the time, I hadn't."

"Cloud knows where I am now."

She turned slightly, displaying a playful pout. "Does he? Here I was hoping the little game of hide and seek between the two of you would last at least a month. I wanted to surprise them next week and show up at the bar."

"We can still do that, if you'd like."

She waved the thought away. "Nah, I think I was just making arbitrary plans for the sake of doing _something_ while you were gone."

Vincent felt the corners of his lips tug into a small smile. _She used a four syllable word in a sentence, that wasn't materia, of course._

She turned more, facing him fully. The mischievous glint was gone from her eyes as she took in the sight of him: He had left behind his usual depressing garb (at her encouragement) and had taken to wearing low cut leather pants and just a shirt, unless he was fighting. She noted the presence of his shoulder plates as he unbuckled the armor to reveal a simple black button up. Of course, none of this was done without Vincent's personal flair: There were at least three belts hanging at his hips, and he was never far away from his cloak, which resembled his old one in color, but the buckles were different and it no longer had the appearance that it had been a feast for a moth. His hair, flowing free about his face, was as long as ever, and served as an excellent curtain to hide his thoughts, or indeed, simply hide behind.

Yuffie subconsciously chewed her lower lip as she gazed at him. How long had it been since he left, saying he would be gone 'for a short time'? Far longer than a short time. She knew it when he told her too. "Short time means something different to me than to you, Vinnie." He had never replied. "Vincent Valentine, I swear to god, if you leave me…"

A knot formed in her stomach as she recalled those moments: he had not answered, but swept across the floor, angling his mouth over hers in a most fervent kiss.

"I missed you," she managed to murmur, her voice strangled as it forced itself from her throat.

His armor removed, the entirety of his attention rested on her every word, few though they were. There was a short pause as he let the words wash over him like a cooling wave, and again his silence preceded his actions as, like the day he left, his strides led him one, two, three steps closer. Each footfall was marked by the deafening echo of his boots on the wooden floor, each heavy step a telling prologue to what she knew was coming.

Yet it didn't come. She had closed her eyes upon his second step, knowing with his long legs it would take him only three steps to clear the distance between them. One more thud of his boot to the floor sounded, and she could feel his presence as she tilted her face upwards in anticipation. But the torturous pressure of his lips against hers never came. He was there at least: she could hear his heavy breathing, and could feel whispers of his hair tickling her chin and cheeks.

She did not dare to open her eyes. Was he upset? Had she done something wrong? Perhaps he was just tired: she could feel the exhaustion radiating off of him like waves. Still, impatiently (as she was known to be) her hands found his arms, grasping the familiar metal and the comforting flesh beneath his cotton shirt. "Vinnie?"

Again, he gave no reply, just exhaling; his breath cooling her skin. Yuffie shuddered, gasping as she felt the tiniest of brushes against her jaw. She knew the feel of his lips. She had tasted their sweetness and examined them with her own in a moment of great concentration; and as light as the touch was, the ninja knew it was delivered by his lips.

"Yuffie…"

She sighed as her name whispered against her neck, relishing in the knowledge that he would choose to assault her there next. A soft pressure on her pulse point caused the woman to moan softly, her arms reaching out to hold her gunslinger.

His lips moved again, pressing soft kisses along the column of her neck, feeding from her slightest movements and softest sighs.

"Vincent," she breathed, tilting her head back to allow him better access to her ivory skin. At the sound of his name, he grew suddenly very possessive, and his arms circled her with alarming force. She was not opposed to being pressed flush against the tall man, however, but gave a surprised cry when he bit down on the soft flesh of her shoulder, leaving a mark nestled just high enough that anyone could see it, were she to wear her regular style of shirt.

He took a moment to admire it before his red eyes flashed up to his victim's face. "Did I hurt you too badly?"

"Yes!" she snapped, but he could see the laughter in her eyes. "Jesus, Vinnie, when I said you were a vampire, I didn't mean to _suggest_ anything."

"My apologies," he murmured, casting his eyes down to her milky flesh once more. "Allow me to make amends," he said, pressing his lips upon the sore spot.

Her arms wound around his neck, moaning appreciatively as his skilled lips and tongue danced over her stinging wound, lapping away the pain.

"You taste like the rain."

His voice was so deep and quiet, and her mind so fogged by her lust that she was not sure if she had heard him correctly, or heard him at all. It was certainly not a thing she had ever heard him say before. She was distracted as his hand came to her face, holding her head as his teeth nipped at her ear, earning another pleased moan from the writhing girl.

"Vinnie, gods, Vincent, stop teasing me."

Another nip to her ear lobe, and then a low growl: "No."

"Vincent," she repeated warningly.

He drew slightly away and looked her in the eye. "Yuffie," he returned.

It was enough just to look at him. Her eyes held his for what felt like eternity, yet she found she could not look away, for anytime less than eternity would not be enough. "Vincent," she murmured, breaking the silence reluctantly. Her eyes remained fixed on his, however, although her hands slid from around his neck to grip his shoulders tightly. "Where was it you went?"

Ruby eyes shifted back and forth from each of hers, trying to make out the nature of the question. Curiosity? Jealousy? Anger? Unable to decide, he remained quiet.

"You took Cerberus, and your armor; most of the materia, too." Her eyes searched his just as he searched hers. "I was so afraid."

"I'm fine," he assured, but as soon as he said it, he knew it was unwise of him to do. "Had I suspected any danger, I would have told you."

"Liar."

He mentally winced: she was right. On the outside, however, he kept his gaze levelly on the interrogating girl.

"Cloud didn't know where you were either, which means wherever you went wasn't for AVALANCHE."

His arms remained comfortably looped around Yuffie's torso as he attempted to remedy the situation without causing her to leave him: he had just returned home, and he was in no mood to be deprived of her warmth. "I did not say it was for AVALANCHE," he calmly stated, watching with mild disappointment as Yuffie's expression grew more irritable.

Yet with a measure of awe he watched as the annoyance only stole her countenance for a short moment, replaced very swiftly by a stronger emotion. In her eyes, tears brimmed at her lower lashes. Not often did he witness the Wutai Princess cry, and moments when she did broke his heart. His hand lifted to cradle her face, pleased when she leaned into his touch rather than draw away from it.

As she sought comfort from the warmth of his hand, her eyes fluttered closed and the last of her will subsided as hot tears spilled over her eyelids and made tracks down her cheeks. Within an instant she felt the gunslinger's lips on her face, kissing away the salty drops with great care. Every touch was deliberate and drawn out, inciting passion as she had felt it before she had been stolen from its grasp by her sorrow. "What if you had been killed?"

He exhaled impatiently. "I wasn't," he grunted, his lips hovering over her skin. When it seemed she would pursue the matter no further, his lips sought her jaw, earning a quiet sigh, and an encouraging whisper as her hands left his shoulders and wound their way around his neck once more.

The cold metal of his claw slipped in beneath her tank top, edging it up her back and revealing more of her supple flesh. Her lips parted at the sensation of cool metal on her skin, delighting in the familiar tingle that shot up her spine. Still, as desperately as she wanted him, her heart cried out. "Do you realize you left me with no hint as to where you went, when you would come back, or why you were going?"

He bit at her skin a little more forcefully before replying, "I did realize that."

Her hands sunk into his hair, pulling his face back so she could look at him. "I thought you were dead."

He did not break her gaze, but as he saw the flickering hurt in her eyes, he sympathized with her. Yet he had known the consequences, and also knew the consequences of telling her of his quest: because of this, the latter had gained his respect, while the first gained his favor. "Forgive me," he said. "It was my intention to quell your worry rather than initiate it."

She blinked at him. "What?"

"I did not tell you, because I did not want you to be worried."

"That is ridiculous!" she barked, her fingers digging a little more into his hair. "I knew because you didn't tell me, it was something worth being truly concerned about. I'm not stupid, ass face."

He quirked an eyebrow: "Ass face?"

"Yes; ass face." Her brow dented and she looked away, starting at his collar bone as she searched for understanding. "You really were in danger, weren't you?"

"The conditions were less than favorable."

Her eyes flashed up to meet his again. Her fingers tightened their grip on his hair as she constrained herself from slapping him clear across the face. Her teeth gritted. "I don't _understand_. If you had just told me, I would have come to help."

An amused smile twisted awkwardly on his lips. "_That_ is precisely why you were not informed."

Her hands left his hair and balled into fists at her sides while she spluttered to express the proper words to explain her fury. Finally, she managed: "I'm not a kid!"

"I know."

She seethed, grabbing his arms and removing them from around her. "I'm going to bed," she declared, turning to stalk away. She was stopped however, by the solid grip of his gauntlet on her wrist.

"No, you're not."

"Excuse me?" she shot back, whirling to face him.

One step was all it took this time to fill the gap between them. There was a density about the air as he stared down at her; his gaze full of desire as hers was trying to fight that same emotion away with her stubborn indignation. Again, it seemed like eternity, but what felt like forever, staring into his garnet eyes, was really only a fraction of a second before his lips captured hers in a searing kiss.

_Infuriating man!_ Her mind screamed, her fingers gripping at his biceps. _This _was what she had wanted from the very second he had walked through the door, yet he did not give in to her until she had uncovered all of the anger and remorse toward him that she had desperately wanted to lock away. She missed him too much to argue: she wanted to hold him, love him and forgive him… at least for one night.

The damage, however, had already been done. As his tongue pushed into the hot cavern of her mouth she did not think to marvel at the taste of spice he always presented, instead, she thought only of the prospect of his leaving her, and the pain it had caused. With sudden rage she bit down, trapping him and earning a low grunt of displeasure.

They tore apart from each other, Vincent in mild discomfort and Yuffie in apparent disgust.

"What exactly was that supposed to accomplish?" He asked; his fiery eyes locked on her face.

Her lip curled. "I could ask you the same thing," she retorted. "Did you think a kiss was going to make everything better?"

A chunk of raven hair fell over one of his eyes. "I was entertaining the thought."

She growled in frustration. "If you're not even going to try to understand how upset I am, I don't want to be around you right now."

"I understand perfectly, Yuffie, but what's done is done." His eyes wandered over her body that had pulled itself away from him entirely. "Now, I am tired and I am in no mood to argue with you."

"That's a damn shame," she snapped, "because that's _all_ I want to do with you."

A moment of stunted silence trapped her, and she felt cornered as the man's eyes snapped to her face. One, two steps and he had her in his grips again, staring down at her with a conviction she had never witnessed in him. "I can change your mind."

She could feel all of the defiance she had built up slowly start to crumble away. It was as if his eyes held the sole ability to knock away every brick she placed up and replace her feelings of bitterness with pure desire. All at once the sensations that had been blocked by her anger became apparent and unavoidable: his scent was intoxicating-- a mixture of gunpowder and cedar trees. _"I can change your mind,"_ he had said. His hands were on her hips, the pointed tips of his golden gauntlet digging a little too forcefully into her skin.

"You-" she gathered all of her strength to force the words out of her. "You're really pissing me off."

He knew. She knew that he knew. She could feel it in his unheeding clutch, see it in the form of a smirk set annoyingly on his face. She could also see he had given up on trying to fix it. If she wouldn't forgive him, he'd leave it and let it come up on its own some other time. Some time when he was not tired and sore and burning for her. The gunslinger's lips tentatively ensnared Yuffie's, the slow rhythmic motions of his tongue sliding against her own very effective in proving his point.

The point she had made of refusing to touch him shattered when her hands found themselves digging into dark silky hair, drawing him as close as she could get him, her own tongue fighting back against his. She knew she was letting him win; and with the disappointment of this discovery, her kiss grew slightly fierce. Yet she had wanted this, hadn't she? She had missed him desperately and dreamed of holding him like this again, so in a way… she _was_ winning. She simply had to maintain the pretense that she was in charge.

The change in momentum was obvious to Vincent. Her fingers clutched him no longer with desperation, but with a kind of intent he was so used to seeing from Yuffie Kisaragi. But despite her willingness to return his attentions, he was not oblivious to the resentment that drove her efforts. He felt her hands leave his hair and begin the painstaking process of unbuttoning his shirt, like a woman truly in charge. _Not today_, he decided. He had spent that past three weeks sleeping on dank floors dreaming of when he could come home to her: to sweep her off her feet and make love to her, but then she pulled the question on him. _"Where was it you went?"_ she had asked, genuinely concerned. Of course he couldn't tell her; it was a matter of her safety. The situation was not under control as of yet, and he could not risk her wishing to go out and fight the creature herself. AVALANCHE would need to be informed, and the situation handled from there. If the gunslinger had his way, it would all be kept at a safe distance from Yuffie.

Now, however, he knew she would not forgive him for making her stay at home. He was in the wrong, he knew, but he did it for _her_ safety.

He gasped for breath as her lips left his, and he sought out the sweet flesh of her neck while she concentrated on removing his shirt, but his arms remained closed around her, making it impossible for her to pull it off. If he could not win in an argument, he knew he could at least win at this.

It was with these thoughts that the battle commenced, and despite Vincent's considerable advantage in height and weight, it was a battle not easily fought. They clawed at each other's clothing, but succeeded only in looking a little more disheveled than when they started. Yuffie's leg wrapped domineeringly around his hip, only to be counteracted as Vincent hoisted her other leg up, and slammed her back against the wall.

She was gasping, partly in frustration, partly in excursion, but mostly because Vincent's hand had pushed up beneath her shirt (no bra? He felt his brain melt slightly as a moan escaped his lips) and groped one of her breasts while his mouth locked over the others' nipple through the fabric of her top. She was losing control, quickly, and hurriedly jerked her hips against her lover's, making him groan loudly as his ministrations lulled for a short moment.

He regained the loss by aggressively shoving up her top and yanking it up over her head. His eyes ran over the pert mounds then flickered up to her face. "Are you still too angry for me to continue?" he asked. There was sarcasm in his voice; the vicious kind that only Vincent was able to produce. He hoped she would stick out her tongue at him; the girlish gesture she still hadn't grown out of. He could find a better use for that tongue of hers, one that was far from childish.

She didn't play into his fantasy, however, but yanked on his hair, tilting his head backward. She lowered her gaze and breathed hotly against his neck, smiling as a low rumble sounded from somewhere deep within him. "Still angry, Vinnie, but you knew that." He made to give the impression of leaving her, but her hips shifted, pressing her self against the agonizing bulge in his pants. "Well, Valentine? You going to finish what you started?"

His eyes widened slightly, only half paying attention to the onslaught of wet kisses she was admonishing to his neck. She knew better than to challenge him, yet the threat made the achievement of victory all the more necessary. Forgetting entirely about her breasts, now exposed to him, he locked his arms beneath her and lifted her away from the wall. He could acutely feel her legs tightening around him and her naked chest pressing against his own. Her hot lips on his neck never ceased their attack as he maneuvered them down a hallway, stopping occasionally, driving her back to a wall to regain balance or simply possession of her lips.

His frustration with her stubbornness had caused it, but it was his need for her to drove him on. Here or there he'd nip a little harder than usual, or let his gauntlet scratch a little deeper into her skin, just to make sure she was aware of his dominance, no matter how hard she fought to gain control of the situation. Though his lust controlled most of his thoughts, the ex-Turk could not help but feel slight remorse at the circumstances surrounding his homecoming. He had hoped she wouldn't be upset: he expected it, but still he hoped. He had the whole scenario pictured perfectly: coming home and retiring to their bedroom, not emerging until breakfast the next morning. They both grunted as he pressed her back forcefully against the door, behind which their chambers lay. Lips crashed together in the lull of movement, each trying desperately to hang on to the idea of their fight, but admittedly, neither could see much farther than the heat of their passion.

Yuffie was still trying to rationalize her passion by instead calling it anger, but she knew as her arms held him close to her and her tongue tangled with his, that her desire would win out any time. In fact, she was already admitting to herself (and Vincent through the small moans and encouraging whimpers) that she had wanted and needed this for a long time: that she had missed him too terribly to be parted from him any longer. Her fury would just have to wait.

The door swung open. Somehow in the flurry of kisses and touches, Vincent's hand had reached behind her and given the latch a forceful push, sending him tumbling into the room, Yuffie's weight** levering **him forward.

With an unceremonious thud, he dropped her back on their bed; the king sized habitat covered in rich rust colored blankets and pillows, made from the finest silk in Wutai. How many times had he looked down at her like this? Her chest heaving and her face flushed, while her hands skillfully unbuckled and removed his belts with precision and speed only practice could produce. As the last was freed, he crawled over her, his hair like a curtain around them both. "Beautiful," he murmured, his bare palm cupping one of her breasts; but his eyes had not strayed from her gaze. "I've missed your beautiful face."

Yuffie fought hard against the entrancing capabilities of his voice. He was a fairly straight-forward man any other time: speaking exactly what he thought, and exactly the way he meant it (when it was appropriate and absolutely necessary, that is). But when they were alone in this room… maybe it was the aspect of sanctuary; that he knew no one would ever hear his words except for his ninja, or maybe it only occurred when all the blood had left his head and traveled, well, elsewhere… he spoke words to her like she had never heard him utter before. Snatches of poetic verses, strings of compliments, soft declarations of his affection; all in the deep melodic hum of his voice.

His words were usually coveted; sometimes being the sole thing that could draw her back from the drastic high his fiery touch had thrown her on. It was the voice that reminded her that while everything seemed inconsistent, he was always there.

There he was indeed. They had been together for god knows how long now (it was really only a little less than a year, but Yuffie liked to pretend otherwise, claiming he had been addicted to her from the moment they found him in his dingy old coffin) but it still rendered her breathless to see the gunslinger hovered over her: his red eyes filled with lust, his breathing made ragged by his need for her. The great Vincent Valentine: the untouchable demon possessed by his sin. Her fingers moved from his hair to touch his face. Possessed no longer; he was entirely hers. The hand ran along his jaw and glided down the ivory column of his neck where the collar of his unbuttoned shirt still lay like a barricade. The corners of her mouth turned up in a grin, for nothing held Yuffie Kisaragi back.

Vincent watched her carefully as the determined grin captured her face and her hands moved to push the black cotton shirt off of his shoulders. Her touch was rushed, but she still found time to find pleasure in running her palms over the taught muscles of his flexed back. He shifted his weight to one arm as one sleeve was being removed and to the other when it came time for the next. She tugged the unwanted garment from his wrist, the gauntlet causing slightly more resistance. He flexed the metal hand, examining it and Yuffie as her fingers laced with the cool digits. "Would you like if I…"

"No," she said quite abruptly. Her eyes snapped to his face from where they had once stared at the contrast of flesh and steel. "No, leave it on."

He knew he need not have asked. It was likely the ninja in her that liked it: the possibility of danger even in the midst of a most tender act brought a certain excitement with it even though they both knew she would never suffer by his hand, biological or not. The claw was given to him for a reason, however: a reminder of the monster that he was. He closed his eyes softly as he felt her lips on his collarbone while her deft fingers worked at the front of his trousers. He liked to think that she wanted it left on for the same reason: to remind him, during a most tender act, that he was a monster and she loved every part of him.

Of course she was still too put out with him to show her love in quite a sentimental way. His pants undone, the ninja hiked them down as far as she could manage and growled up at the dark haired man looming over her. "Come on, Valentine, you're wasting my time."

His eyes narrowed at her briefly before he dropped his head to capture a nipple in his teeth, causing the woman to gasp in surprise and pleasure. He managed to do this _and_ undo her knee length shorts while he attempted to remain as graceful as he could muster with a pair of well-fitting leather pants half-way down his thighs. All the while her little command was rolling around in his mind; making the ex-Turk think of all kinds of ways that he could really slow down their progress. His erection, hidden unsuccessfully by his boxers, railed at the idea; but the game, it seemed, was not lost yet.

Yuffie didn't think so either, being a horrible loser was just part of who she was. She had been Vincent's lover long enough to know what he did and did not like, and fast 'just cuz we've got a minute' fucks weren't his favorite. Of course, when the occasion called for it, he'd have her up against a wall (like five minutes before they were meant to leave for Cloud and Tifa's engagement party) or on the kitchen table (while _they _were supposed to be entertaining fellow AVALANCHE members in the drawing room of the Shinra Mansion). But when one or the other came back from a mission on which the other hadn't been assigned, they made up for the time spent apart by slow and deliberate sex, once, twice, three times during the night.

She wasn't sure when or how it occurred (her thoughts were almost entirely consumed by his skillful attention to her breasts) but he had pulled off her shorts, leaving her naked to him expect for her bright yellow panties, with a goofy looking chocobo head depicted right in the center. Perturbed by the cease of his touch on her skin she tilted her head so she could see what he was looking at. Recognizing the chocobo as the most likely reason for his distraction, she firmly seized his hand and dragged him back up to her face. "Birthday," she explained, her breath too short for full sentences. "Tifa."

His mouth opened as he gave a silent indication of understanding, and just like that the matter was lost, his attention focused on stealing her lips in another demanding kiss, during which he kicked off his boots and wrangled his pants off of his legs and onto the floor.

Yuffie's mind was quickly losing its thoughts of revenge as the gunslinger's tongue invaded the darkest corners of her mouth, his taste infiltrating her senses. It would have been a lot easier to grab him and flip him over if he wasn't such a _damn good kisser_, she decided, her arm hooking around his neck as her own tongue shot into his mouth. Of course, it wasn't helping her cause that his hands had begun their torturous wander, skimming over her breasts, gliding along the dip of her waist, slipping beneath her to firmly grab her ass and pull her hips flush with his. Her back involuntarily arched when she felt his length pressed between them, giving in to the desire to have him inside of her. "Vincent," she gasped as their kiss broke, one arm around his neck as her free fingers brushed along his chest and abs, snaking down to the waist band of his underwear, fingertips poking just beneath the elastic.

Would he give her what she wanted? The gunslinger was unsure of the answer himself; gazing down at her flushed face and chest. His mouth, still hovering close to her formed the words she so desired to hear. "Let me have you," he said, his breath hot on her ear. "_Now._" His hands that still held her hips lifted her away from the mattress once more, his thumbs hooking in the straps of the bright yellow underwear and dragging them down her thighs.

"It's about bloody time!" she cried in exasperation, kissing him quickly before her own hands went to work on carefully removing his boxers and releasing the raging heat of his erection. Her fingers touched him in appreciation, and a soft whisper left her lips. "_I need you so bad._"

He wasn't certain he had heard her properly. Normally his hearing and perception was spot on, but as the pads of her slender fingers grazed his member, he had reason to be excused if his attention was elsewhere. His next breath left him very slowly. _She_. Only she had the power to do this to him: to completely steal away all five of his senses with once fell swoop. She had beauty that made his soul weep, a voice as light and cheerful as the air in spring, or as dark as a summer's storm. She tasted like rain pouring directly from the heavens: the kind the gods saved for very special occasions, and she smelled like honeysuckle and spice. Her touch… She felt warm and comforting, but beneath her supple flesh lay muscles hard as stone, prepared to fight any foe, and her fingers…

His attention was drawn once again to the attention she was dealing him, her hand now stroking him in long deft motions. He found himself reaching for her wrist automatically, drawing her hand away and leaving a gentle kiss on her palm. He left it then to continue his wanderings, knuckles brushing the soft skin along her hip and down her thigh.

She grabbed his hand roughly, sliding it up the inside of her leg where hidden beneath dark curls her passage wait, wet and ready for him.

His fingers drew themselves along the lips of her womanhood, dipping into its warmth with teasing inconsistency. A dirty phrase in Wutaii slipped passed his lips, earning a light satisfied chuckle from the White Rose as her legs impatiently parted farther for him, her hands winding in his hair and drawing his lips to hers with a force unguided, like magnets.

Vincent let a slip of a slime mark his face while his tongue raked along her own, feeling both of her hands in his hair.

One finger. _Gasp_. Two fingers. _Whimper_. His digits slid inside of her easily, infiltrating her core with an expedition like mentality. _Useless_, he thought to himself, his fingers prodding inside of her, reaching for the places he knew would make her writhe. He was far too practiced at this for it to be of any use anymore; and she had likely been ready for him from the moment he bit her neck, not moments after he walked in the door. Slowly, torturously he pulled them from her, wiping the moistness from them on her stomach and shifting himself over her.

In their kiss he could feel her anticipation. Her hands clutched a little tighter at his had, and her tongue retreated, her lips nibbling lightly on his instead as he positioned himself at her opening, whispering her name lowly as he pushed himself inside of her: an inch at first, then another and another, and then he'd pull out and start again, one inch, two, four, lost count…

Yuffie's teeth tugged at his bottom lip as his presence engulfed her, making sure to bite a little harder, to emphasize that although she was about to teeter off the edge of the world due to his touch and his alone: she was mega pissed off at the gunslinger. She could feel the familiar pressure inside of her; the push of his cock to the very limit, the furthest he could possibly reach, and she too was pressed at the base of his member. Vincent had too much decency to say so, but Yuffie had commented it on their very first time.

"_Vinnie, we fit so perfectly!_"

Perfect in every other sense was far from who they really were, and so they had clung to the idea very closely; even in her anger clouded mind, Yuffie pulled the memory and it's meaning out of hiding, clutching to it as he began to draw out of her once more, then snapped his hips to thrust inside.

She swore the lights dimmed and that she went temporarily deaf all in the same instant, for so heightened in that moment was her sense of touch that all else was pushed aside. Her mind reeled with all of the sensations that overcame her. Her muscles tightened, a dizzy feeling clouded her mind, but over the ringing in her head she was abruptly aware of the sharp hiss of pleasure that sounded in her ear, and the momentary lapse of strength in his limbs. There was his hole in defense.

In an instant, in a blur, the Kunoichi had him rolled onto his back, still impaled on his manhood, grinning lecherously down at him.

"What are you doing?" he asked flatly.

Yuffie's smile grew a little wider and a little more malicious as she rotated her hips, causing his fingers to clutch at the bedspread. "Winning," she uttered cheerily, drawing herself up and slamming down onto him again.

Red eyes snapped shut and his mouth twitched, his hands leaving the bedspread (part of which had been torn by his claw's sudden attack) and gripping her hips, feeling out her rhythm before thrusting up to meet her as she drove down from the apex of her stride. He couldn't recall ever using this position more than once before; and it was early in their relationship while they were still trying to pin down the best ways to please each other; if he recalled correctly (which his mako infused mind almost always did) this one hadn't done Yuffie any favors. Then why would she… "_Winning,_" she had described it as. If it weren't for the position of dominance she held over him, Vincent certainly wouldn't call his current situation _losing,_ per say. Every slight move she made sent waves of pleasure crashing over him, and he could quite get used to not having control if _this_ were the consequence. His hips bucked into her again, but he knew it was futile; the way she was shifted, while it caused such sweet friction for him, did not give her the same opportunity for fulfillment as it did he. Yet trying to move her proved to be just as futile; she was completely set on finishing this her self, her stubbornness driving her to push through a rather unpleasant round of sex. She'd keep pushing until she met her end, or if it appeared he would beat her to it, she'd fake it and get up to leave with most of her dignity (if not her self-respect) in tact. Winning indeed. He grunted as she slammed uncomfortably onto him, a grimace crossing her face where there should have been a mouth open in awe. _It's her own damn fault_, he figured, pumping into her with the intent to finish. There was no sense waiting for something that wasn't about to happen.

Her jaw dropped when she felt his fingers clutch her hips, slamming into her with extra force, guiding her rise and fall as if _he_ had could control her, even like this! Yuffie suppressed a snarl and arched backward, trying to get _something_ out of this. The feel of him inside of her always gave her the sweetest chills, bit like _this_ the spots that needed to be hit just weren't getting what they craved. Vincent, or more importantly, the look on his face, was not helping. He was murmuring things to her in Wutaii, soft endearments, whispers of encouragement, but she couldn't hear them. She bit down on her lip, clenching her muscles to amplify the sensations between them and squeezing back the tears of frustration that threatened to fall. Oh how desperately she wanted to hear his voice.

Then she did; only, it was not at all what she wanted to hear. Instead, from his mouth left her name; a dry cry in his gruff tenor while his hands held her hips against his own. She stared at him in horror when she felt it: the familiar feeling of his seed spilling inside of her and the extra little thrust he gave at the end, only usually her mind was too far off at this point to register his completion. He was breathing heavily as he tilted his head to the side, his neck cracking and a horribly self-satisfied grin on his lips. The hands that had once burned fiery paths on her skin moved down her thighs and away, crossing under his head like a pillow. Once completely comfortable, his eyes flickered up to meet hers.

She was still staring at him as though Chaos himself had just sprouted a head from his shoulder and was making threatening faces at her. She had been stark still all the while, and only when she felt him growing soft inside of her did she dare to rip her eyes away from his and remove herself from him. One leg, two legs off the bed; with a lot of huffing and muttering as she went. "Fucking smug bastard," she cursed, throwing another sharp glare over her shoulder, trying to ignore the heat of his essence sliding down the inside of her thigh. Making a hasty retreat she snatched his shirt up off of the floor and shrugged it over her shoulders, sauntering out of the room and closing the door forcefully behind her.

The moment she was gone his arms slid out from beneath his head, letting it fall unceremoniously onto the bed. He was in deeper than he had intended, and he was becoming more and more aware of it the colder and colder he got, laying naked on the bed without Yuffie to keep him warm in the afterglow of his not-so-great-but-good-enough-to-piss-the-woman-off climax. Of course, he had pulled a dick move and not let her finish, which was the cause for every remaining voice in his head reprimanding him with cajoling choruses of '_Valentine, you're an ass_.' A human hand rose to pinch the bridge of his nose, betraying his emotions quiet expressively as he so uncommonly allowed. The empty room, however, did not judge.

Author's Note: This is part one to a series of two. Next Chapter: The begging commences.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thanks for the patience, and the reviews. I'm actually not pleased with this at all, haha. Feel free to rip it apart, it only makes me try harder next time. There are typos and things, I'm sure, so don't bother to point them out. Uhh what else is wrong with it? Oh yeah, I get rambly when I should be focussing on the pure hotness of Yuffentine Shmex. Sorry. End is kinda nice though.

* * *

She sat on the toilet seat lid, knees up to her chin and her ankles crossed, her arms circling her legs. Decked out in only Vincent's shirt she found herself feeling unbelievably cold as the sweat on her skin began to cool; a condition she was invariably unused to dealing with without Vincent's arms wrapped protectively around her, shielding her from the icy drafts of the ShinRa Mansion. On the counter next to the sink her cell phone sat, a red light blinking in the top right hand corner. She swept it up immediately, flipping open the screen and sighing thankfully when the name "Tifa Lockheart" flashed before a text message appeared.

"What do you mean, 'Vinnie's a jerk-off'?"

A scant smile touched the ninja's lips and the snapped the cell phone shut again. Within a brief number of seconds the phone started to vibrate and a familiar ring tone cracked the silence of her bathroom retreat. The phone snapped open again and she raised the speaker to her ear, waiting.

"… Yuf?"

"Hey Teef," she replied, her voice lacking its usual excitement to hear the voice of her best friend.

A moments silence on the other end betrayed Tifa's perception. "Uh… how are you?" she asked tentatively.

"Oh fine," Yuffie lied, but they both knew her fib wasn't very convincing.

"What is all this about Vincent, Yuffie?"

The ninja sighed. "Teef, have you heard anything about some horrible conspiracy by any chance? Are there any creatures running around unchecked? Has Sephiroth come back in remnant form again?"

"Woah, woah, woah, Yuffie. What are you talking about?"

"You know, tall guy, long hair: really crazy bangs. Tried to destroy the planet?"

"I know who Sephiroth _is_, Yuffie. What I don't know is why he has anything to do with Vincent, or you for that matter."

Yuffie's forehead connected with her knee as she sighed wearily. "Thing is, Teef, I don't know myself. He came home today."

"Wait, what? Sephiroth?"

"Vinnie, Boobs: Vinnie. Pay attention."

"Well you're kind of jumping all over the place." The woman on the other end paused briefly before continuing. "Is he safe?"

"Not a scratch on his body," Yuffie sighed, ignoring the suggestive chuckle from Tifa. "Yeah, yeah, he was well searched." She could almost see Tifa raising her eyebrow.

"You're usually more… cheerful… after…"

"After Vinnie comes home?" she substituted, knowing Tifa's real meaning. "Yeah. Usually. But like I said, Tifa, he is the biggest of dick-wads and I really feel like just… just…" She thrust her arm out, her fist connecting with thin air. "Punching him in the gut!" Her chin dropped back down to her knee as she frowned.

"What did he do?"

"It's more like what he _didn't_ do," Yuffie corrected. "I still have no idea where he was for most of the past month."

"He hasn't told you?"

"He says he couldn't tell me where he was going, or how long he would be gone, or what he was doing, because he didn't want me tagging along. Stupid jerk thinks I can't take care of myself."

Tifa hushed her. "That's not true, Yuffie. He cares about you, that's all. He doesn't want to see you get hurt: ever."

"But he's allowed to run off by himself and get into god knows what kind of trouble? Teef, he was there by himself: not even Cloud knew where he was. I wish I could just get up the nerve to go back in there and yell at him, or apologize, or just kiss him."

A silence settled around them, broken by another of Yuffie's forlorn sighs. "Dilly dally shilly shally." They both recited. A little chuckle cleared the air.

"I was so angry with him, Teef. Not because I didn't get to go, or because he didn't tell me, but I was so worried! I called him every day and each time I got his voice mail. I almost thought listening to that would make me feel better: at least I'd hear his voice, right? But then I remembered he couldn't figure out the damn phone and the entire thing is me telling him how to record his own message."

Tifa laughed.

"He never contacted me for three whole weeks except for one measly little phone call this morning: if you can call it that."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he didn't even say hello. He just muttered 'today' and expected me to assume he was coming home. Lucky thing I did or he'd have seen me vegged out in his boxers eating peanut butter from the jar."

"I don't think even I wanted the mental image of that, but thanks…"

Yuffie's feet left the toilet seat and dropped to the ground, the ceramic tile making her even colder. "I should have just shut my trap and had just been happy to see him. We wouldn't have bickered, I wouldn't have… Ugh Teef, I'm so damn stubborn."

"News flash?"

"Stop teasing me, I've just been humiliated by Mr. I Art Better Than Thou Vinnie, and I don't need you to add to it."

"Humiliated?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I think you do, Yuf. Why else would you have called me?"

Yuffie snorted. "For the simple fact of not being able to complain to Vince _about _Vince."

"That's never stopped you from doing it anyway."

"Well it's never gotten me into this much _trouble_ before."

Tifa's hesitation was obvious, even over the phone. "Yuffie, he didn't…"

"No!" She jumped to her feet as she screamed it, glaring in the direction of her phone. "Tifa how could you?"

"Well Yuffie, the way you describe it is as if it's the end of the world or something. I just wanted to make sure I didn't have to kill him."

"Vincent would never _hurt_ me, Teef. He may drive me crazy, but he'd _never…_" her voice broke at the thought.

"I know, Yuf, I know. I'm sorry. Listen, my cell is going to die. I think you should talk to Vincent, but if you need to, call me on the house phone."

Yuffie smiled slightly. "He's pretty annoyed with me right now, Tifa, I think I'll wait until morning."

"Want to switch phones?"

"Nah, you go to bed. At least Cloud still likes you."

Tifa's soft sigh preceded her words. "He likes you, Yuffie, he's just afraid to show it."

Yuffie's smile turned bitter. "Goodnight, Tifa."

"Night, sweetheart."

* * *

He had pulled on a pair of pajama pants not long after she disappeared: the cold draft in the room just too much to handle. He had considered crawling underneath the blankets, but it seemed sacrilege to do so if Yuffie was not with him, so instead he donned the plaid flannel, removed his gauntlet and retreated from the cold silence of the bedroom to the kitchen. He wasn't sure what he was looking for when he got there, but the mild displeasure upon seeing it empty enlightened him to the fact that he had hoped Yuffie would be there, preparing herself a bed-time snack as she so frequently chose to do.

The refrigerator hummed, but there was otherwise no life, unless he counted the something green that was apparently taking over whatever was in the Tupperware container in the back. One of Yuffie's creations, he guessed, poking at it absently. He pulled the whole thing out and sniffed it gingerly, before tossing it out (container and all) into the garbage. If anyone used the dish again _he_ certainly wouldn't eat whatever was inside.

His feet led him out of the kitchen and down another hallway and before he knew what he was doing he was on his way to the library, Yuffie's next favorite haunt excluding their bedroom. Of course, she wasn't big on books, but there was an enormous cushioned arm chair sitting directly in front of a decently sized television, where on rainy days she could find herself lost in for hours. When he arrived the library had a lived-in look.

Said chair was home to a pile of blankets and pillows, so many it was a wonder she could sit there herself. A TV table had been pulled up to its side and on it were a couple of empty beer bottles, a martini glass and a bag of pretzels, half of which were still in the bag. He neared the chair hesitantly, but picked up a couple of the pillows with the intent of putting them away. Underneath the pillows he caught sight of purple fuzzy slippers: Yuffie's favorite. "It looks like she lived down here," he muttered to himself.

"I did."

He set the pillows slowly back on the chair and glanced over his shoulder at Yuffie, who was standing (distractingly still half dressed) in the doorway. "You'll get sick, eating junk like this," he muttered, flicking the bag of salted snacks.

"I did."

He 'hn'd' quietly. _Apologize already_, it called to him. Since Chaos had been removed it was taking a lot of work to stop ignoring the little voice in his head. Chaos' ideas were often miss guided and selfish, and its constant presence had all but silenced this smaller one. It was his conscious, apparently. He could remember it from when he was a Turk. The voice had been squashed into severe remission because of his work, but now it was slowly gaining precedence for once in his life.

"Yuffie…"

"I never sleep in our bed when you're not here," she said suddenly. Her amethyst eyes held his for a brief moment before her gaze fluttered away. "I come down here and sleep in my chair."

His eyes widened slightly. "Every night?"

She nodded. "I'd never sleep if I had to lay in that bed alone."

"There are other rooms here, why on earth a chair?"

"Too close to the same thing."

"You must have spent some time at Cloud and Tifa's, didn't you?" When she shook her head he took a step toward her, asking why.

"What if you came home, Vince? I didn't know if you'd call first. I didn't even know if your phone was with you."

An image of his cell phone screen with eighteen missed call messages haunted his mind. That was only a week into his disappearance. "I was…"

"Hey, don't, okay Vinnie?" She was tired and upset, but despite this she was trying very hard to return to her normal self. She'd do it for him: she'd do it because he deserved to have his Yuffie now that he _was_ home. "I'm just happy you're here now. "

He sighed softly. "Yuffie, I'm sorry."

"I said stop."

He hung his head in defeat. "Let's go to bed."

She swayed over to him, dragging her tired feet a little bit. With every once of energy she had left she stood up on her toes and kissed his lips very gently. "Goodnight," she whispered, slipping past him and sliding into the armchair.

"Yuffie?"

"Yeah Vince?"

His eyes raked over her, offended. "What are you _doing_?"

Her hand dove beneath the blankets and produced a remote. "Watching a movie. I'll sleep down here so I won't wake you when I'm finished."

"Yuffie."

The ninja arched an eyebrow silently at him, and he felt the head-on collision of her intentions like a brick wall.

"You're still upset about…"

"Not that," she uttered sharply. "That was my own fault. I'm largely embarrassed and somewhat offended, but I was all but asking for it. I'm not angry about that."

His eyes closed briefly. "Yuffie, I am sorry I was gone."

She laughed. "Vincent, I'm used to you being gone. Its part of what we do; who we are. Sometimes I have to go away, and that's fine; but you _always_ know where I am, because…" she fidgeted slightly. "Well I figure you care, and would want to know. Do you not think I care, Vincent?" Her eyes locked on his. "I care more about you than anything in the _world_."

He was silent. What was he meant to say, anyway? "_I care about you too_" sounded lame, and he knew that wasn't what she was looking for. Drawing his fingers through his hair, he sighed. "You understand _why_, don't you?"

She stared at him. The obvious type that just sang: _"Vincent, if I knew why, I wouldn't be asking you_." "From what I gathered," she began, her eyes still on his face, "you were concerned that I would follow you." He winced, realizing how much it seemed that she was being treated like a mere girl, unable to help herself. "I am coming to terms with this," she said, surprising him. "It's like… you kinda like me, right? I mean, you don't want me getting knocked off by some beasty in the hills."

"Yuffie," he droned, barely suppressing an eye-roll. "I more than _kind of like you_."

She looked away, caught between pleasure and confusion at the statement, and then looked up at him, searching for clarification. "If you do, why didn't you call? Didn't you miss me?"

"Terribly."

Her eyes mirrored her misunderstanding.

"I thought about calling you every day."

"But you didn't," she deadpanned.

"No, I didn't," he acknowledged. "I couldn't think of what to say. More than anything I just wanted to hear you breathe." His eyes shifted away from her as her expression changed to something akin to mesmerized. "Deciding that this was not enough reason for which to base a phone call, I restrained, choosing to simply listen to that ridiculous voice-mail message you recorded on my phone."

Her jaw fell slack slightly.

"Of course, by the time I had something worth saying to you, my battery was dead and I had to wait until I could find a receptacle to charge it."

"Find a receptacle? Geeze, Vinnie, where were you, the desert?"

"No."

She stood, folding her arms over her chest, causing the shirt she was wearing to inch up on her bare thighs. His eyes were immediately drawn to it and he felt a shiver run up his spine.

"So how did you call me this morning?"

"Reno's phone."

"Reno was there?"

"Reno and Rude came to find me when Cloud sent out an inquiry. The help was much appreciated. I suppose I have you to thank for that," he said, forcing his eyes back up to her face.

"So the Turks can help you, but I can't?"

"Yuffie we've been over this, I didn't want you to get hurt."

"I'm a member of AVALANCHE, Vincent. I've saved your _life_!" She stepped closer to him, her hands now balled in indignant fists at her sides. "How else do I have to prove myself to you?"

He knew he should tell her that she had proved herself enough times to be worthy of anyone's recognition. He should have told her that if it had been anyone else's decision she would have been the first person chosen to investigate. He should have explained that it was his care for her that was fogging his common sense. But he didn't; instead the gunslinger grabbed her hand and yanked her closer to him, his lips colliding with hers.

At first she withheld, small mewls of protest trying to escape her throat while the dark man's tongue invaded her mouth; but the woman's defenses were soon distracted, her arms circling him and sliding over the smooth contours of his bare back.

Suddenly, with a force not uncommon with the ninja, she tore herself from him and glared demonically. "What the hell are you doing?" she cried. "I just get finished telling you _again_ that I'm super annoyed, and you go around kissing me _again_. What, didn't you get what you wanted last time? Oh wait, _that was me!_"

Heatedly he dragged her back. "Yes, it was you, which means we're still not finished."

She snarled. "Like hell I'm going to be humiliated again. The only way you're getting anymore of this ass is if you drag me up there and rape me."

His fingers grasped her hips, pulling them against his own; his arousal making her shift nervously.

"You wouldn't dare," she breathed, trying to take a step away. His hands held fast.

"Wouldn't I?"

She knew he wouldn't have to. She was already backing toward the chair, the elastic of his pajama bottoms caught in her hooked finger. She saw the little gleam of victory in his eyes when she began to unbutton his shirt from over her chest, and gave him a stern look. "Just because I'm hot for you, doesn't mean I'm not mad. I still think you should have told me where you went."

"I agree, I should have, ideally; but ideally you would have listened to my request that you stay here rather than come with me. We both know we do not have an _ideal_ relationship."

Yuffie's lip curled in a snarl. "Why is it so awful to consider me going with you?" she asked, sitting on the arm of the chair, her knees parting as one of his hands slid up the bare expanse of her thigh, while the other cupped her face gently.

"Not awful, Yuffie," he said, his voice hushed. "I had thoroughly considered all of the… perks… of you accompanying me."

Yuffie could not hold back a breathy laugh. Cloud had stopped sending the two of them places together, because their missions were being increasingly delayed by coitus expeditions, rather than monster termination. Vincent blamed Yuffie, and she accepted the blame heartily, for the sake of Vincent's image, but she they both knew he was equally at fault.

"Is that the reason then?" She asked. "You know, it's your fault I'm such a whore in the first place."

He drew her fiercely into his arms. "You are no whore," he uttered fervently. "Speak no such thing."

She suppressed a laugh, for as he said this, his hand spread her legs farther apart, his fingers grazing her slit that was once again slick for him. She pulled the waist of his flannel pajamas down, revealing his burning erection, and took him hot in her hand. "_Was_ that the reason?" she asked, her voice shaking.

His hips bucked toward her as she wrapped her fingers around his girth. "_No._"

"I don't believe you."

He captured her lips once more and met no resistance as he positioned himself at her entrance. She shifted her hips as she perched in the chair and moaned into his mouth as he entered her, wrapping her legs around his hips. Her arms, still garmented in Vincent's shirt, wrapped around his shoulders as he lifted her, his hands underneath her as he positioned her more comfortably.

Their kiss broke with shaky breaths, and Yuffie found herself looking down into Vincent's eyes from this unfamiliar aerial height. She was bottomed out on his shaft once more; the familiar feeling of wholeness and completion engulfing her like it consistently did. "Perfect," she whispered, reminding him orally of what he was already thinking.

He always kept his little obsessions to himself: watching her sleep, stealing her towels after she had showered so he could dry them and use them himself before they were washed, and things of the sort, for he simply assumed she would not understand. Frankly most of them he had a hard time of figuring out himself: such as why on earth he should find any pleasure in listening to a pathetic excuse for the voice-mail message instead of calling her and hearing her real voice. Yet he kept these traditions, rituals and oddities close to him, but none so close as this.

When they had first been together, it had almost been a joke. He was physically worn and tired, and she had been injured after battling a creature from the hills that had ventured dangerously close to Edge. She had saved his life that day, and it was then that all of the accumulating attributes of the Wutai Princess became clear to the gunman. He had grown to crave her bubbly attitude, he missed her when she was gone, and it never escaped him how devoted a person she was, even if it was shown best only to him. He made this clear to her as they set out on the AVALANCHE commission, but as she stared dumbly at him (out of both shock and elation) the monster appeared and proceeded to kick both of their asses, almost destroying Vincent before Yuffie took a hit meant for him and his bullet finally dealt a devastating blow.

Her self-sacrifice had been too much. He had held her tenderly, like a tiny glass object that might break if he touched it too brashly. Their kisses were light and often off-target; too exhausted and too mesmerized to care. He had entered her with unrivaled caution, his heart breaking at the prospect of hurting her any further. He winced when he broke her maidenhead, but through the pain she gripped tightly to his shoulders, urging him on. His manhood settled within her as far as she could let him, and indeed as far as he could go.

"_Vinnie,_" she had gasped. "W_e fit so perfectly!_"

She had uttered the word again. "_Perfect._" It struck a chord in his heart, that: the prospect of actually being able to produce such a sought after trait with all of the sin and the stains on both of their lives. She was once the White Rose of Wutai, a woman taught politics and violence from the day she was acknowledged as heir to the throne. He was a Turk, born and bread into diplomacy (lies) and taught everything from defense (warfare) to preventative measures concerning the safety and best interests any of the Shin-Ra information or staff (murder). The thought that together, and only together could they achieve perfection was oddly satisfying, and each time they made love he made a point of acquiring that kind of sanctity, no matter what.

The moment washed over them both, each gazing at each other, each knowing and wishing they knew what the other was thinking at that very second.

He hadn't noticed his feet were carrying them away until he set her on the desk, laying her back as his hands moved over her abdomen, pulling his length from her and slamming home again, holding her thighs as he did so.

Yuffie's eyes crossed as the sensations that were so much stronger and more vibrant than when they had been tainted by her anger and frustration. The thought of her earlier plight brought the question at hand back into her thoughts. "Well Vincent," she uttered, her voice broken as her fingers gripped to the edge of the desk, trying not to let a stack of papers get pushed over the side. "What _was_ your… reason for…" she gasped loudly when he pushed the full length of himself into her, leaning over her trembling body to kiss her breasts. The hand not clutching the desk wound its way into her lover's hair, encouraging him as he maneuvered himself into the desk as well, his body pressed flush against hers.

His mouth was close to her ear now, and although he did not answer her questions, she could hear the small murmurings that were uttered from his lips as he began his rhythm within her once again.

"So warm, so sweet, my princess; my princess."

In response she let a shuddering breath out passed his ear.

"Sweet Yuffie, Levaithan, gods. The sins, they flee: they flee when I'm inside of you."

Her fingers dug a little deeper in his hair. "Vincent?" The brokenness of his voice frightened her, but she hadn't much time to dwell, for his words began again; much briefer, much more strangled and sounded more like sighs that actual speech. "So tight, so sweet: My Yuffie."

Her body moved in tune with his, arching and writhing with his every thrust. He angled her upward slightly, snapping his hips with more force as he watched the tell-tale signs wash over her face. Her eyes fluttered closed, her knuckles turned white where they held the desk. The muscles around him clenched tightly and her jaw tilted backward. Crimson eyes, half lidded, watched her as the first waves of her orgasm hit her like water on rock: A small whimper; a rigid body; pant, pant; "Vinceennt!"

He struggled to pull out of her before her contracting muscles brought him with her, but quickly replaced his member with two probing digits, prodding at her most tender spot as she rode wave after wave of pleasure. Her body would relax and his finger would find the place again, sending her over the edge once more.

She lay panting, finished, gazing at the ceiling in complete rapture. When it seemed possible for her to form words, her eyes shifted to Vincent, and over her heaving chest she spoke; "I still hate you right now."

He had gotten off the desk, and now grabbed her hips, dragging her to him, and gathering her up in his arms. "I know," he whispered, his lips grazing her collar bone as once again her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms clutched at his shoulders.

She did not protest when he carried them into their bedroom, laying her sweetly atop of the blankets, his hands running over the sweat-slicked contours of her body. "We are even now, yes?" he asked quietly, lying on his side next to her, his eyes roaming her still dreamy face.

She exhaled loudly as his hand cupped her breast, a breathy 'yes' embedded in its midst. "But I still expect an explanation."

A soft smile touched his lips, and he leaned over her, kissing her with a tenderness he rarely displayed. With Vincent, affection was shown in passion, in devotion, in steely resolve and fierce protection. He was a gentleman in public, but not a lover until they were away from their peers' eyes; it was then that the passion he always showed in battle was unleashed, and on nights like this night, that passion came across in a war-like manner.

Yuffie was happy for the change in attitude, hoping that with it came some compliance on his part. She wanted to know where he went: she wanted to know why he went, and most of all why he felt she was unsuitable to come with him. She knew he cared for her protection and that he wanted her to be safe, but to her, these things simply did not add up.

The kiss was long and slow, inciting new passion in them both. Sacrificing his completion the last round, for the sake of Yuffie, Vincent's urgency was magnified tenfold, but under their new truce, he withheld, his advances slower and softer than their previous bouts of desperation.

Yuffie's hands held him close to her as he hovered over her body. She wanted to feel every inch of him, touch every piece of skin exposed to her. His pajamas were discarded, his arousal pressed between then as she kept him close, her hot kisses and breath on his shoulders and neck. Her fingers ran over his muscles finding the familiar scars left behind from Lucrecia's and Hojo's experiments, the roughness of the injured tissue bringing stinging tears to her eyes. It always amazed her, when he held her in his arms and whispered the soft encouragements into her ear that a man covered with so many physical reminders of his past could possibly have anything left to give her. She damned Lucrecia on a frequent basis, even though Vincent begged her to forgive, as he had. Yuffie still held an undying bitterness, however: the woman had never really loved Vincent. No, not like Yuffie did.

The thought brought her ministrations to an astounding halt. Her eyes which had once been half lidded and glazed, widened with sudden clarity. She shifted their gaze from the bed canopy to Vincent's face, which was looking at her with an expression of confusion fogged with lust. His garnet eyes focused on hers and they simply stared at each other for what seemed like ages.

"Now you know," Vincent whispered.

"What?" her voice was carried away by her breathlessness and shock.

"That look," he explained. "The way you look at me in this very instant; that sudden clarity you're feeling right now."

"What about it?" She tried to hide it; she tried to shove it away: it was scary, it was too much.

"I had that look."

Her eyes widened more. Could he possibly know what this look really meant? Was it so obvious? Could he read her thoughts? If he knew, was he telling the truth? She knew he cared for her, bit did he…

"About a month ago, do you remember?" He paused to leave a gentle kiss on the corner of her mouth. "You came home from a fight…" he lifted himself slightly in order to see her stomach where four evenly sized scars marred her skin. "I was afraid you'd drown in the bath if you went by yourself."

Yuffie remembered. She had been bleeding profusely, and the wounds were bound to get infected if she did not clean herself up. Vincent had gone with her. He stripped her of her clothing meticulously and got into the tub with her, resting her back against his chest. She had been disgusted with herself, tears in her eyes as her blood dirtied the water around them, staining him with her impurity. She was tired and afraid, and had missed him while she was away, and so the tears did not easily stop, even as he dried her off and knelt to wrap her wounds. When he had the bandages tied, something had changed. His usual assertive self dissolved, and instead of whisking her to bed to rest, his arms circled her, and pulled her to him, his face planted in her stomach. Her sobs had returned, and her fingers clutched his hair.

He did not need to finish the story himself; the look of understanding in her eyes was enough to assure his point had been made. "I couldn't save _her_," he said softly. He braced himself, for usually when he spoke of Lucrecia Yuffie's defenses sprang up like a stone wall. Her fingers instead touched his lips, distracting him from finishing his statement.

"But you can still save me," she whispered. The tears that had previously clouded her vision returned as her eyes darted back and forth from each of his. "Vincent, I…" She gasped suddenly, pressing her head back into the pillows. He had entered her swiftly and without warning, the full length of his shaft sheathed in her moist passage. Hands that had nothing to hold groped for something to hang onto: one found his bicep, the other clutched at the strong muscles of his back.

The gunslinger's movements were slow and torturous, both to him and the woman writhing beneath him; her gasps and moans whispering past his ear. Each thrust was coupled with a shock of pleasure, the intensity like nothing either of them had ever felt before.

Yuffie was having severe difficulty discerning one sensation from the next. Her mind was full of thoughts needing to be thought, but Vincent's glorious body was making it nearly impossible to separate them long enough to dwell on anything. But under the surface of passion, her heart was singing and weeping and laughing all at once. How could she have not seen this before? Why was it that all of the sudden, all of her concern, care and compassion was directed at one person: one person she would put above herself, no questions asked. How long had this been going on? How long had she _actually_ been in love with Vincent Valentine? She could only safely reply that she had no idea; that today was truly the first day it really occurred to her.

It had been his intention to ignore the feeling entirely. What they had was good enough; he loved her and she might as well love him in return. He pretended it did not bother him that she considered him a very close friend and a sex fiend, but she never said she loved him. So when it hit him so blatantly over the head that his heart had actually been ensnared by another woman's clutch, he kept it to himself, promising it would not get in the way.

When it came to expel the creatures from the caves in the hills, he kept that to himself too, but would never admit to himself why. In truth he was clinging to the prospect of atonement, or of completely selfish self-preservation. Lucrecia's downfall had filled him with darkness, but what he shared with the scientist was lukewarm compared to the inferno that burned for Yuffie. If he were to lose her… His lips captured hers in a desperate attempt to dispel the thoughts, his thrusts driving at an increasing rate.

When she came home from the fight, blood pouring from open wounds he felt the threat like never before. They had never said their relationship was anything close to permanent, it was just a matter of convenient circumstances until one or the other felt it was necessary to go. He had promised himself he would not fall for her, for he could not possibly take another Dr. Crescent episode in his life. Yet, even as her wiles and charms wrapped their clammy fingers around his heart, he had never truly feared her leaving him. He didn't know why: perhaps it was her child-like simplicity, or her fierce devotion, but _she _would never choose another man over him.

Death, however, was a circumstance he had not considered until he had seen her in such bad shape.

She couldn't say she hadn't noticed a change in him. Not some two days after she sustained the injuries a meeting was held in Edge and the members of AVALANCHE gathered to hear Reeve's WRO reports and his prognosis on the pest reduction problem. Things were looking up: Deepground had been purged, their information and files downloaded into the world wide network for the history books. Omega and Chaos had returned to the Lifestream, and other than the creatures that still lurked in forests, caves and jungles, the planet was in pretty good shape. Why, then, did Vincent look like the ground he was standing on could crumble beneath him at any given moment?

Yuffie whimpered beneath him, his slow and deliberate movements drawing such delightful feelings from her, but the tense little ball in her stomach was not finding any relief. "Harder," she panted, rewarded instantly as he bucked forcefully.

Lightheadedness was sweeping over her; she could feel herself being carried away with every move he made, and she desperately clung to him: the only reality in the spinning room around her. His whisperings had begun as she started to slip, and she hung on ever word uttered as a link to the deepest depth of his mind and heart. The Wutaii poetry fell from his lips with ease, in an accent nearly as flawless as hers. "_Let me draw you into myself._"

She tried to let him. She really did. She did everything physically possible to allow him to suck her right into his soul, but alas the physics would not permit. Time and space seemed to erode into nothing. How long had he cradled her in his arms? How long had she known she had loved him? How long had it been since he came home? It didn't matter: all of it was worthless and weightless. Their bodies collided as though they had been lovers for centuries: perfect rhythm, perfect friction, perfect heat; yet it felt as innocent and fresh as their first time.

"Yuffie…"

Her fingers clutched tighter at his back and she bit down on her lip.

"Yuff—" His head was yanked down to hers, locked in a kiss as deep sounds echoed in the back of each others throats, the moans and whimpers growing stronger with every thrust.

He broke from her lips, gasping her name once more, his eyes half lidded in concentration. "Yuffie, how…"

"So close," she gasped, her nails dragging over his skin. "There, yes. There. Oh my god." A tremor shot up her spine. It was the first of many shooting spasms of pleasure that erupted in her core; the walls of her passage clenching tightly around him. She sucked in strangled breath after strangled breath as the shocks overwhelmed her, his name whispered in her futile attempt to obtain air.

His once powerful strides grew weaker; his head bent low over hers as he crumbled against her and with a final thrust spilled himself into her, her name a harsh grunt from his lips.

She was still whispering his name as he lay collapsed upon her, her soft breaths whisking across his hair. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. Oh Vincent. I'm sorry."

He weakly pressed his lips to whatever bare patch of skin was available to him, hushing her with gentle touches. "Shh, princess. It's all right."

The fog of her passion was slowly fading, and the thoughts that had once struggled to gain attention over the heat of her lover's touch now flooded every corner of her mind. Slowly her hands slid into his hair, whimpering as is own arms circled her lovingly. A gasp echoed in the silence as she fought to breathe, a choking feeling settling in her chest as tears filled her eyes. "I love you," she whispered, her voice desperate and shaky. She pressed a kiss to his temple. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Vincent's soul sang at the sound of it, and his arms tightened around her. "Forgive me, Yuffie," he murmured, kissing a bit of her exposed neck. "I should have told you. I should have known years ago. I was blind, so blind." He very carefully disentangled himself from her, and after drawing them both under the covers, held her tightly to him as gentle tears rolled down her face.

"I feel like such a fool," she laughed, the sound tangling with a sob. "I am so happy that I cry, and so…" her eyes searched his for a moment. "Vincent, are you afraid?"

He took a moment to take in her countenance, his expression grim. Finally, his eyes traveled back to meet hers. "No," he replied. "I did not believe that… She had my heart… I was a… but _you_…"

He did not need to complete his sentences, Yuffie comprehended him perfectly. She had asked herself the same things and come up with the same answers. Could he ever love after Lucrecia? She had stolen his heart so young and proceeded to crush it, leaving him a very broken man. But she. But she was that consistent presence, that youthful laugh, the gentle touch, the open affection. She pried him out of his shell, and even if he crawled back in around other people, when he was with her he willing came out.

"You love me despite of these things, and you strive to break down every wall you face." His rolled onto his back, bringing her with him to rest on his chest. "You won't leave me," he whispered, almost too soft for her to hear.

She did not need to affirm this. She let out another breathy sigh and snuggled into his embrace, marveling at how simple things seemed to be now. All of her anger toward him was due to her love for him, and the things he did to anger her were done out of his love for her. Love was where they collided, but as he held her tenderly, enveloped in the warmth of his body, she decided that the collision was worth the ache.

**_FIN_**

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Author's Note: It is finished. Lemme hear what you think, please. I love to get feedback. I've already got another Yuffentine rolling around in my head, so we'll see if I can't get that one started soon. Encouragements may help with this!


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